


A Snuffed out Spell(caster)

by madasacheshire



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Callum dies, Gen, help how do I tag??, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-07-24 10:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16173635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madasacheshire/pseuds/madasacheshire
Summary: “I’m sorry,” the elf whispered. To her credit, she sounded genuinely remorseful before she lifted her arm, blade glinting as it swings forward.And Callum knew no more.Or,If Rayla swung a little faster.





	1. Death of a Bachelor

“You don’t have to die,” the elf taunts, slinking forward, blades balanced in her four-fingered grip. 

Callum stares at the elf above him, gulping, as he pushes his way farther back into the room backing into a corner as she strides closer. 

“There are only two targets tonight,” she says as she slinks even closer to his fallen form.

“Wait, two? What do you mean?” They’re obviously here for King Harrow, and Lord Viren perhaps? He was the king’s right hand man, he was equally involved in any events against Xadia, if they were here for anyone, it’d have to be him, right?

“I’m here for the king.” she pauses, face growing fiercer. “And I’m also here for his son. Prince Ezran.”

Callum’s eyes grow wide. 

His baby brother. 

Ezran, his wonderful stupid baby brother. His unique combination of sweetness, mischief and jelly tarts, his beautiful annoying baby brother, who makes up stories of treasure behind waterfalls and would never admit to misplacing his sketchbook after he borrowed it for the umpteenth time, who’s probably found every hidden tunnel and pathway in the castle for the singular purpose of searching for sweets.

“You can’t, that’s not fair!” (Ezran) “Why would you hurt someone who’s done nothing wrong?”

“Human’s cut down the King of the Dragons, and destroyed his only egg, the Dragon Prince.” Her blade slices forward, and Callum jolts back almost instinctively, head slamming into the table behind him as her knives are now held at the ready, a breath away from slamming right into his jugular.

She narrows her eyes at him. “Justice will not be denied.” 

His baby brother who crawls into his bed and curls up underneath his arms in the dead of night, whimpering from an imagined terror, who sneaks him bites of sweets while their tutors are distracted, who cheers for him in fights against Soren, who spends hours planning the perfect route into the bakery, who found an injured Bait, and spent months nursing him back to health rather than leave him to suffer.

“I see.” (Ezran) “Well then, you’ve found me.”

His baby brother, who Callum firmly believes will one day become the kindest and most understanding king this kingdom has seen. Maybe not the most powerful, but if anyone out there could bring peace to the land and end the war with Xadia, it would be him. 

His baby brother, not a baby, not anymore, but innocent, so innocent. His baby brother, who believes in the best this world has to offer, the best of humanity, the best of him. 

(Ezran)

Callum looks at the elf, eyes hardening with resolve, defiance coating his tongue and spewing from his lips. 

“I am Prince Ezran.” His defiance went unnoticed, his final hidden message lost to this, this creature standing above.

(You will not touch him)

“I’m sorry,” the elf whispered. To her credit, she sounded genuinely remorseful before she lifted her arm, blade glinting as it swings forward. 

And Callum knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

Rayla looks down at the bleeding, lifeless body of the prince in front of her momentarily before she falls to her knees, bile spewing from her lips, splattering the ground beside them. Knives drop from stricken fingers, clattering against the stone floor as she holds herself, head bowed, rocking back and forth silently.

(His eyes are still open. Empty eyes, accusing eyes.)

The slightest of whispers, trembling she sobs out apologies. 

Worthless now. 

Lowering her head further, tears start to spill from her cheeks as the scent of vomit and blood mix together, churning her stomach. Shudders shake her violently, a bone-deep chill crashing over her, waves of ice slicing further up her chest, burrowing closer and closer into her heart with each passing second, deeper and deeper and deeper into her core. 

She knows why she did it, she could never doubt that. For Xadia. Her home, her people. To redeem her lineage, redeem her parents, who had fled, who had allowed the humans to attack and kill the king of the dragons, shatter the egg of the prince, who had allowed this war to come into fruition. For the Queen, who had lost all she had in a single, ruthless strike.

She did this to redeem herself. She let the guard free, she was the reason everyone was in danger, why Ruunan was in danger. Because she couldn’t kill an enemy, because she looked into the eyes of someone who could potentially kill them all, saw fear, and showed mercy. She couldn’t afford to do that again, to endanger everyone, to let them down again. 

She knows why she could never doubt why. 

(but he looks so small)

A whisper from the side of the room interrupts her, and she twists from her position on the floor. A scuff of leather against stone and she shoots back to her feet, grabbing her knives and creeping up near silently to the wall, tears still falling against her cheeks. 

Rayla wipes her arm against her eyes, smearing the moisture across her face as she stalks across the room coming face to face with a… painting? She shakes her head, clearly, there was someone (something) behind it. 

She steels herself, pushing back the ache- for Xadia, for Xadia- pain lessening just enough that Rayla could breathe once more. She raises her weapons. 

Looks back at the body on the floor. 

(just a boy) 

Her Prince has been avenged, her duty fulfilled. The others would take care of the king, did she need to cause even more harm? Could she be done, could she just, lower her weapons? 

“Callum,” a voice repeats, and Rayla holds out her knives, knives now soaked in the glistening lifeblood of the prince. As the liquid drips, slowly, slowly onto the floor below, bile rises back to her throat and she deactivates her knives in one swift movement, sheathing them behind her back once more. It was a child’s voice coming from the walls, even younger than the one that painted the floor, she didn’t need her weapons for this. If it ended up being some sort of trap, she was confident enough in her skills to retaliate before any damage could be done.

She looked back at the body, blood soaking through cloth and stone, staring, staring, broken up to the ceiling, and pushes the painting open a crack, forcefully blocking the view staining behind her. She looks in through a space just wide enough to see a young boy with some creature in his arms staring up at her. 

“Uhhhh…you’re not Callum.” He sounded slightly concerned, but overall unbothered as if this was an expected outcome. 

“Uh, no.” The two just stand there, staring at each other, uncertain on how to proceed, because really, there was a literal child walking into- if she remembers the prince’s shouts correctly- a High Lord’s chambers. 

Just two imposters staring the other in the eye. 

The boy’s gaze glances away, darting down across her face and his eyes begin to sparkle. Before Rayla could even suspect any hint of suspicion or deceit, the boy looks back at her, gleaming. 

“Do you like jelly tarts too?” he gasps in wonder, completely defenseless. As if she posed absolutely no danger to him as if she weren’t a threat. As if all the obvious differences between the two all the bitterness that could be festering between them could be resolved by the simultaneous love for a baker’s treat.

“What-” she starts before being cut off by the boy’s giggles. “You’re kind of a messy eater though,” he snorts, gesturing vaguely to her cheek.

He tries pushing the painting open a little further, but Rayla holds it firmly, glancing back at the body painting the floor before gritting her teeth, focusing again on the boy. This isn’t an image anyone should see. 

An innocent, just a boy, just a boy. 

The prince was probably well known, the boy would recognize him. He could’ve known him. They likely weren’t friends considering the age difference, but they could’ve shared a meal, laughed over the same joke in the courtyard- he could’ve even just been a figurehead, rarely seen with no interaction, but regardless, this didn’t need to be the boy’s last view of his prince. 

Rayla turns back and lifts a finger to rub the spot the boy gestured to and looks down to a smear of blood staining her hand, staining her cheek—

staining her soul he’s dead what has she done, what has she—

Her stomach rebels again as horror comes crashing back, icy tendrils slicing their way to squeeze back into her. Her mouth opens silently. Closes. The frog croaks, and the boy stills, sparkles dimming, staring up at her nauseous expression, her self- loathing, her pain, her determination, her regret - she couldn’t regret not for this, not for Xadia - and he stares, piercing, into her very mind. 

“Are you going to kill me?” he asks quietly, too quietly, holding up the creature in his arms as if ready to brandish it as a weapon. 

Rayla blanched immediately, backing up a step out of pure revulsion of even the thought, ice twisting, stabbing. “No! No of course not, I--”

She could barely stand taking the life of her target, for Ruunan, for her queen, for Xadia, but outside of the love of her country, to protect her home, her people, she had no other reason to kill. She was an assassin, not a murderer. This child, this innocent, he didn’t need to die. He shouldn’t have to die, she couldn’t kill him, he’s done nothing, absolutely nothing wrong. 

“I wouldn’t.”

“Why are you here?” he asks, and despite everything, she recalled rich skies, glimmering stars at twilight, beckoning, the moon, the moon, hard rocky cliffs, the thick brush of trees. Dragons flying ahead and above, their cries echoing across open plains. Elves, her people, children running around, shrieking, hiding among trees, running to returning family and friends, the bridges, the cobblestone, the canals running through the city. Ruunan teaching her to run, to fight, carved necklaces and a home to return to. 

The boy looked at her, her glow, the love she clearly emanating for a mere second and relaxes ever so slightly. 

“Hmm.” The boy shifts, lowering the frog in-between the two and nods up at her. 

“Well. I should go, I gotta find Callum.”

The memory of her home vanished in a puff of smoke, or more accurately, a churn of the stomach. Rayla swallowed, trying desperately to drown the sick in her throat. “Who- you were calling to him, yeah? Who is he?”

The boy grins immediately, creature hugged to his chest as he leans forward, beaming up at her. “My brother!” he glows, before seemingly shrinking in on himself. “I don’t have long to find him though. We’re supposed to be outta here before nightfall…” he trails off, face scrunching. 

Rayla berated herself once again. They could’ve been in and out without anyone’s knowledge. She absently wondered if many people in the castle were trying or already managed to evacuate. Humans run from any sort of danger. It didn’t seem there was a huge rush to leave, but it didn’t seem like there were many people remaining either. She’d only seen the guards, the royalty, and the boy. Is he part of the royalty?

Either way, nightfall wasn’t too long away. She looked down at him contemplatively, his shifting from side to side under her gaze. Family. He has to leave, to be with his family. There isn’t much time, and it’s a large castle. 

And she needed to escape, escape the stifling copper and haze of the room behind her, she’d done her part, she’d done her duty, her mind whispered as her gut clenches, as the stench of copper begins to spread, as the boy begins shuffling away. 

“Wait! May-maybe I can help?” she stutters quickly. 

He stops, making a wordless questioning noise, turning back to her. He lifts up the creature in his arms up to his eyes.

“What do you think Bait?” the…lizard? grumbled, skin darkening into a rich violet. He laughs, “Sure!” he answers easily, smiling back up. “A stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet!” he nudged the creature. 

The lizard lightened, grumbling once more, looking away. 

“Great!” the boy smiles up at her, gesturing to the path behind him. “Come on then!”

And Rayla stepped into the portrait, closing the painting firmly behind her, the two of them walking side by side. 

They walk quickly, the echo of their footsteps muted underneath and around them, lit by a cool, thrumming light reflecting off the cold stone of the passageway. They pass room after room, the boy looking in, calling out his brother’s name, before returning to the passageway, shaking his head. With every empty room and abandoned hallway and no sign of anyone other than the guards, the boy walks quicker to the next, and soon enough the two are sprinting between passages. 

After yet another fruitless room, Rayla opens her mouth and turns to the boy, toad held tightly in his arms in a near death grip and she shuts it, turning instead to stare at the gems lighting up the walls. They continue to walk, continue to search, continue in silence and the boy steadily grows stiffer, before coming to an abrupt stop, bringing hands up to harshly ruffle through his hair.

“Ugh, where could he be!” the boy groans, and the toad jumps from his arms as he falls, first onto his knees, then collapsing- face pressing against the ground. 

Rayla starts, jumping forward, hand outstretched but he rolls onto his back, glaring upwards before she could reach him. She retreats a few inches as he throws his hands up towards the ceiling. 

“Where?” he shouts, almost hysterical as he draws out the question for several seconds. His face crumples, and his arms fall to cover his face, as he begins to shudder. Rayla sits down beside him, abruptly reminded of how young he was, how easily frustration could get to a child. It was so strange to see him so despondent, even after just a short time together. 

She hesitated, “Where else have you looked?”

“Everywhere!” the boy snaps back, sitting up and glaring at her, a slight build of tears weighing his eyes. She looked at him evenly and he sighed, drawing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. The creature grumbles, pressing up to him, now a rich sapphire. 

“He wasn’t in our room. Or the courtyard. Or the kitchens. He’s probably looking for me, so he wouldn’t be outside,” the boy jerks his face towards Rayla, nearly colliding. 

“He wasn’t even in the library!” the boy groans, exasperated. “He wasn’t in our room, the library, getting beat up in the courtyard, the kitchen, the main hall, most of the hallways he hides in draw, or in Lord Viren’s office where I found you, cause sometimes he likes to hang out with Claudia, she’s Lord Viren’s daughter…” he trails off, and tears begin welling further in his eyes, and he buries his head into his legs. 

Rayla scoots closer to him, and reaches out a hand once again, placing it on his shoulder. They sit in silence as tremors wrack the boy.  
“What’s he like?” she asks him quietly after some time had passed, tremors dying to an occasional shudder. 

“Well…” the boy begins carefully, “he likes to draw. Like, he draws a lot. He’s got a really good memory, so he’s always drawing things he’s seen, or what he remembers, and he’s really good at it… but he sucks at fighting.” 

The kid laughs, radiant and gleaming. 

Rayla snorts alongside him. He quiets, but thankfully still smiling, more gentle than exuberant, more comfortable. 

“He’s a good brother. Sometimes he gets angry and says stuff he doesn’t mean, but he always apologizes,” he brightens further, a true feat. Some sort of spell?

“And if he’s really sorry, he’ll do the jerk-face dance!” 

“The what now?” she plays along to the boy’s infectious glow. 

“The crazy jerk-face dance! It’s a dance of stupitude and sorry-ness” he announces loftily, dissolving deeper into giggles. 

“And- and he’ll pull all-nighters to draw, he’s always tripping up when he talks to Claudia, and he’ll wake up in the middle of the night to draw the dream he just had before falling asleep on the desk instead of the bed and all the lines get smeared, or he’ll read me and Bait stories and give all the characters different voices” he continues, slowing. 

“And when thunder’s really bad, he- he lets me crawl into bed with him, and he sneaks me jelly tarts when I’m grounded, and stays with me when I’m sick, even when guards try to force him to leave or tell him he’ll get sick too,” he reaches up to pat his hair almost unconsciously. “Sometimes we fight, and he doesn’t always believe me, but- but he’s always there for me.” The boy sniffles and his voice grows thick. 

“He’s always trying to protect me: say’s it’s the duty of a big brother.” he frowns at the ground. “But it means he might get hurt someday.”

He hugs himself again, suddenly looking vulnerable, and so, so small. 

(so small) 

“I don’t know what I’d do if I- if I couldn’t…” 

Rayla abruptly understands. It isn’t just the fear of a child, it’s the fear of losing someone you care about, who you look up too. Losing someone who’s taught you, been there for you, someone who will always have your back. It’s the fear of losing someone you know would die for you, who you instinctively fear will one day never return home. 

She leans forward, wrapping him into a hug, trying to convey her understanding with only a touch. They lean into each other, and for a moment, everything stills. 

He smiles up at her, aching, and she returns it, softening before her mind flashes back to a bloodied neck and empty eyes dropping lifelessly onto the ground, and her smile strains and grip tightens imperceptibly. 

She spared herself a moment, a mere second to contemplate, now that he’s gone, was the Prince leaving anyone behind? He had a father, could he have had…

She ruthlessly cuts off that train of thought, it didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. She had a job to complete and she’s done it, no matter what the ache in her chest was telling her. 

Xadia, Xadia, Xadia. 

“Well,” he shrugs, and she unwraps her arms, letting them drop back by her side. “Since we can’t find him now, there’s something you need to see.” 

He stands and stretches, before turning back into the passageway, waving her along, glowing once more. Seriously, what kind of spell? How much magic is wasted on that glow? Who would bother spending that much time to construct something like that? Who does he know?

“It’s this way, follow me!” he says, starting forward.

“Wait- what’s this way?” she questioned. “What are you talking about, what do I need to see?”

He began jogging, his only response a breathless “Come on!”

Rayla scrambles to her feet, stifling a fond smile. If only all humans were like this one, this could be a much better place. Rayla catches and keeps up with him effortlessly while they jog together down the hallway, twisting and turning before stopping to a dead end. He grins back at her mischievously. 

“Time for a puzzle,” he crows, surging forward and pressing a number of different stones on the wall, mumbling under his breath. 

“Let’s see… rock, rock, stone, rock, stone, stone, rock, stone, rock, stone…” as Rayla stared at the seemingly random pressing of rocks? Stones? Was there a difference? 

“How long did it take to figure that out?” she questioned.

“Couple of months!” the boy responded cheerfully as he pressed the final combination of rock/stone, and the ground beneath them began rumbling. Rayla lowered her stance, a hand placed on the weapons at her back as the floor sunk into a set of stairs. The boy bounded down the steps, Rayla following carefully behind.

Rayla stares horrified, slack-jawed at the abominations collected in jars, lying across shelves. Horrors glare back.

“What is this place?” she whispered hoarsely. She’s spent the last couple of hours in this human’s presence and gotten no sign he would be involved with something like this. This wasn’t his, was it? What kind of creature has the ability to do something like this, something so atrocious, and still smile in the face of it?

“Why would you bring me here?” she asks, almost silently. 

The boy ignores her, running up to a curtained stool, placing a hand atop the patterned fabric. 

“Look— here!” he turns to her, face pleading. “I can hear something inside- something alive!”

The boy pulls off the curtain and Rayla’s entire world stops.

This, this is an egg, this is the egg. This wasn’t possible, it was destroyed years ago, it was the reason they’d been sent, why she’d been sent, why she’d killed—

This can’t be.

And yet the egg remained, defying and shattering her beliefs with every pulse of thrumming light. “This- this changes everything,” she whispers, raw, aching. 

“He needs to go home,” the boy pleads, suddenly seeming to be a far distance, pleading to what— to understand? To accept? “He wants his mother.”

Rayla barely acknowledges him as her stomach, previously calmed over the course of their journey and conversation rebels once again. She didn’t have to kill the prince, the egg is here, the egg is here, the egg is here!

Ruunan. 

(No.) 

She twists to the boy, eyes crazed. “There are more coming, more like me. They’re coming because of the egg, we thought it was destroyed, they’re coming for revenge, they’re going to kill the king,” the boy freezes, eyes watering, but she plows forward. “We have to let them know, we have to stop them! There’s no reason for this war to continue!” she shouts, hands reaching up to grasp her hair, twisting painfully with every tug.

There was no reason for the prince to die. 

She turns to the boy, sharp, intense. “Give me the egg” 

The boy contemplates for a single moment, a moment too long, we’re wasting time we have to stop them, looking down at the egg and back into her desperate wild expression, before his face firms, picking up and handing her the egg. 

Rayla nods once at the boy, adjusts the egg in her grip and begins to sprint, fast, faster, we don’t have the time to waste, a boy, a prince, a child, already died for this, there doesn’t have to be any more casualties tonight. 

The boy behind her shrieks, racing to keep up with her. 

“Wait, you can’t leave without me!” he shouts, running desperately behind her. 

“You can’t come!” she yells. “They could hurt you! This doesn’t involve you anyway!” she throws back, continuing to run, sliding through a corner, picking up speed. 

“I am too!” he shouts, drawing farther behind as they turn a second corner, stairs just ahead of them both. 

“They’re trying to kill my dad!” 

Rayla freezes. 

(freezes)

She runs through whatever information she knows as the child catches up to her. 

“How- are you- so fast,” he wheezes, but all Rayla can hear is the pounding of her heartbeat behind her ears. 

They’re trying to kill the king. The king is this boy’s dad. She’s killed a prince. A prince who feels comfortable enough to go to a Lord’s room seeking help. This boy was also a prince, a prince looking for his brother. Callum, he’s looking for Callum, who must also be the king’s son, who’s been hanging out there in the Lord’s room with his daughter. A brother who the boy is worried about, who is willing to do anything to protect him. 

And it was only then she looked down at the bindings still entrapping both her wrists and a horrible realization engulfs her. 

“Wait, uh, what’s uh- what’s your name?” she chokes out, gripping tightly at the damning sight before her.

“Me?” he looks at her questioningly, but shrugs, the creature in his arms, still puffing lightly as he comes to a standstill beside her.

“I’m Ezran.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back? 
> 
> Back with the realization I'm very, very slow at writing, but I mean it's a lot longer this time, so there's a plus at least. 
> 
> (also, there were supposed to be lots of italics in these last couple chapters, but I don't have a clue about how to work this site, So whenever I learn how to go back and fix them, I will) 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. Kinda. Mostly. Debatable. 
> 
> I watch that second episode and a plot bunny sprung from the earth and began pummeling me over the head with a hammer. (End me)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Sorry it was so short, the next bit should be longer, but I knew if I didn't get this piece out, I'd never get around to it. I hope you enjoyed!


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